Ripped Apart
by Egyptian Dreamer
Summary: The Muggles broke him and the Wizarding folk were too late. They deprived him of the one thing he considered precious. But once he gets his twin back, revenge can follow. And it will be ever so sweet.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, everyone! **

**I came up with this completely out of the blue, but I hope you like it!**

**I know I'm supposed to be updating my other stories, but when I'm hit with sudden inspiration I can't move on to another story til I put it on paper.**

**Fair warning: It might be a bit angsty at first but it gets better.**

***Ripped Apart***

It was hot. Actually, hot would be a major understatement and quite an unfair one at that.

The sun seemed to be mocking them from his brilliant spot up there, obviously having risen today with the sheer intention of torturing them.

Dark green eyes narrowed into an irritable glare as their owner squinted up in a bizarre attempt to have a better look at the scorching orb above. 'Blasted thing.' The boy thought in disdain, lips curling up into a sneer as he jerked his head downwards, stray dark locks sticking to his sweating forehead, making him sweep a hand through his hair with a growl only a breath away from leaving his lips.

And just like that, his anger dispersed into nothingness as he stared at the scene before him.

Sitting there on the cold, grayish concrete ground of their beloved orphanage's backyard, was a little boy, his pale skin glistening in the sunlight and making his dark hair seem even darker at the contrast. Every trace of his previous malice melted away as those ever sparkling emerald eyes lit up as the boy found another match at the jigsaw puzzle he was currently bent over.

Tom chuckled softly to himself. 'At least one of us is having fun.' he thought bemusedly. And too true that one was. It amazed him how his brother seemed able to enjoy himself even in the most bizarre moments… like now for instance.

Not that Tom cared anyway. His brother's happiness was the one thing he cherished above all else.

Something shifted to his right, effectively snapping him out of his thoughts and towards the general area of the movement. What he saw made his anger flare up again.

Dennis Bishop, the oldest kid in the orphanage was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest in his usual attempt to look intimidating, just so that he could cover up for his skinny frame.

His eyes seemed to be glued on a certain spot in front of him and once Tom caught up to the exact subject of his gaze, he did growl this time.

"Harry," he called out, two bright pools of green instantly snapping up to focus on him.

He jerked his head curtly and the boy got to his feet with no further questions, walking right into his opened arms. He tightened his hold around his twin just as Harry tugged his head under his brother's chin.

Tom shifted his head ever so lightly to the side, narrowed eyes glaring holes as he caught Dennis' stare dead on, the other boy glaring right back. But when after a while Dennis got up, walking back inside to the orphanage, it became obvious who was the winner. Tom's shoulders relaxed from their tense position, his eyes closing for half a second before reopening and focusing on the form in his arms.

Ever since they had met Dennis Bishop, the boy had made clear his intentions, never losing a chance to taunt and bully them.

Tom had soon become his main target, after the night he had sent a number of spiders to the boy's bed. Dennis had been pestering them all day, but when he began mocking Harry and calling him names, Tom finally lost it. Persuading the spiders to do his bidding was the easiest of tasks. He would have chosen another animal, but the little fact that spiders were Dennis' worst nightmare had made his dilemma a lot easier.

Of course, Dennis had no proof that it was Tom's doing, but he intensified his bullying just for the heck of it.

"Tommy?" The gentle, filled with concern, voice snapped him out of his musings at last. He smiled softly, a gesture that was only reserved for his brother, and shook his head dismissively.

"You sure you are okay? Your eyes did _that _again." That comment alone was enough to raise a laugh from Tom. True, he had never been one to control his temper.

"Let's go inside, alright? It's boiling hot out here."

Harry frowned at him, easily recognizing the change of subject, no matter how smooth it was. His brother was quite blessed when it came to acting skills, but he had never achieved to fool him, and definitely that wasn't gonna change anytime soon. He did let it go, though. If it was anything of importance, Tom would spit it out sooner or later.

Nodding shortly in reply, he let his brother take hold of his hand and steer him around, towards the building they called home for the last ten years.

The moment they reached the long, wooden staircase that led up to the rooms, a voice made them freeze on their tracks, "Thomas! Harrison!"

They both winced. Oh, how they hated their full names.

From all the people they could have run into, it had to be the woman that ran this place. "You two are a total mess!" Mrs. Cole hissed as she came to hover above them, like a hawk towering and circling its poor prey, "Look at you; all sweaty and covered in dirt. You better get cleaned up before it's time for lunch or you won't be getting any food at all, not even the scraps."

Harry shivered involuntary at the implication; they hardly got any food as it was. If the matron forced them to skip another meal, as she usually did for punishment… god, he didn't even want to think about it.

His brother must have reached the same conclusion for that ever sweet smile was back in place as he stared back at the woman. "Of course, ma'am."

Mrs. Cole shoulders slumped, a weary sigh passing through her lips. She looked at them one last time before shaking her head as if in resignation. "Just make sure it doesn't happen again." And with that she was gone.

He watched with something akin to fascination as the smile, if you could even call it that, slipped off Tom's face, his lips curling into a nasty sneer instead. Sometimes, this act of Tom's was the only thing that kept them from missing any further meals, but it still didn't work all the time. Harry couldn't help but wonder how was it that only he was able to see past his brother's mask. Surely, the others could see that that smile was as cold as ice, deprive of any emotion whatsoever, and that it never reached his ears.

But then again, they might weren't capable of telling the difference because simply they had never seen what a real smile looked like on Tom's face.

He himself could be quite persuasive if there was a dire need, but the only problem was that he couldn't pull off such a smile, as fake as Tom's. He only smiled when he truly felt like it, and he definitely didn't feel like expressing such a happy emotion towards the people that had been the cause of their suffering for years now.

The caretakers that punished them even for the most insignificant mistakes, the other kids that mocked them… he didn't hate them exactly. They were behaving the way they were because, in their eyes, Tom and he were different. Freaks…

Okay, that did hurt when they kept repeating it over and over again whenever the two of them were around.

He still could understand them though. The things they could do, weren't exactly normal after all. He doubted however, that Tom shared the same sentiment as him. It was pretty obvious that his brother hated the lot of them with quite a passion.

He risked a glance at Tom's face as the other boy led the way up to their room; blank. He sighed inwardly at that. After an encounter with any of them, Tom would either be seething or gazing somewhere that only he could see with that unreadable expression on his face. It worried Harry to no end.

Tom's emotions about their surrogate 'family' were getting more intense as the days passed. He would nowadays snap at every kid that so much as dared to glance their way with the usual disgusted look in their eyes, not to mention that he was beginning to get overly possessive of him, challenging anyone to raise a hand against him or even taunt him, and then there would be hell to pay.

He didn't mind that possessive side of his brother, but it only served to increase his worries. It was only a matter of time till someone crossed the boundaries that had been firmly set, and then… Tom was going to become a force truly to be feared.

Harry could only feel dread for the arrival of that day.

***)&(***

"Do you think she'll be there?" Harry asked absently, attention more focused on the muddy footprints he left, watching them disappear the moment the waves washed over them.

"You know she's always there. The cool temperature and the easy access to water source is the perfect environment for her." Tom's answer was as nerdy as always in Harry's opinion, but the fact that it seemed to be made just as absently, made the younger of the two look up.

Indeed, his brother wasn't even looking at the path ahead of him, having memorized the route by heart after all those years that the orphanage took them here, and was instead gazing somewhere to the side, head turning occasionally to glance behind as well. It was strange for Tom to act this way. His posture actually reminded Harry that of an animal, observing carefully his surroundings and ready to flee at any potential danger. Or perhaps without the fleeing part. Tom was never one run for cover, but rather face any upcoming threat with full force.

"What's the matter?" he asked tentatively, almost afraid that if he spoke too loud he would disturb the other's concentration.

Tom sneaked another glance behind them from the corner of his eye, eyebrows furrowing ever so lightly before wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders, guiding the slightly smaller form closer to him while in meantime increasing their pace.

"I can't shake off this feeling, like we're being watched or something." Harry frowned at this, his head turning to the side as if to look at the sea while actually trailing the path they had taken from the seashore in order to reach their destination. He had been feeling somewhat uneasy himself, but had blamed it on the chilling wind.

Sensing his brother's discomfort, Tom tugged him even closer, nearly engulfing him in his embrace. "I'm sure it's nothing, though. After all, we are almost there."

Harry turned his head towards the path ahead of them, his eyes quickly spotting the dark walls of the cave as it loomed over the sea, casting an eerie shadow over the waters.

A small grin spread over his face.

It had been a while since the last time they had paid their slimy friend a visit. After all, it was only once a year that the orphanage brought them to the seashore for a trip.

Excitement transforming into giddiness, the young boy could no longer contain himself and his face split into a wide grin as he lurched forward, outright laughing at the sharp gasp of his brother as he pulled him along. Water splashed over them from the force they planted their feet into the muddy sand, but they still didn't halt their movements, Harry going as far as to purposefully jump the very moment the waves reached their feet, ending up getting them both soaked and emitting a deep laugh from Tom.

Somewhere along the way, Harry got his brother to participate, both of them jumping with perfect synchronicity as the water reached the level of the sand, salty droplets covering their faces and clothes. Panting and unable to stop laughing for the life of them, the boys reached the entrance of the cave at last, their laughter doubling in force as their echo came back to greet them.

Completely out of breath, they bent over their knees, taking in deep gulps of air in an attempt to appease their burning lungs.

Breathing restored, Tom straightened up, water flying in every direction as he shook his head vigorously and earning giggle-like chuckle from Harry, who brought his hands up to his face to protect himself from the assault.

"_It ssseemsss like you two hatchlingsss are having quite a fun time." _Both boys instantly ceased whatever they were doing and looked downwards just in time to see a rather large snake pulling itself out of the water of the lake that resided deep in the cave. Approximately eight feet long, dark green with equally dark spots of black and bright green eyes, the young python was truly a sight to behold.

"_Hello, Nagini." _Harry greeted in return as he kneeled on the ground to stroke those shiny scales tenderly, _"It hasss been quite sssome time."_

Nagini flicked out her tongue, trailing it across the boy's palm affectionately before butting her head against his palm, a motion that reminded Harry vaguely of a kitten. _"Indeed it hasss, little ssserpent."_

Tom crouched down as well, however in a more dignified fashion that his brother, and traced the snake's jaw with his fingers, earning a hiss of pleasure from their female friend that made him chuckle, _"Were you lonely, my dear?"_

"_It certainly wasss uneventful without your presssence, sssnakelingsss." _

"_We were going to come earlier, but the orphanage possstponed the trip due to the heavy rain that hasss been going on for a week now." _Tom said, both he and Harry pulling their hands back as Nagini suddenly reared back in rage.

"_Ssstupid humansss! Keeping my hatchlingsss away for sssuch a truly sssilly reassson. Do they not underssstand that rain isss mother nature'sss blesssing for them?"_

Harry scratched his cheek sheepishly. Nagini's point of view was truly one of a kind and it never ceased to surprise them. As if reading his mind, Tom reached forward to stroke the snake under her chin, a motion that had Nagini instantly hissing in pleasure again. They had learnt by now how to deal with the serpent's sudden mood swings.

As if struck by lightning, Nagini pulled back all of a sudden, her serpentine eyes dilated dangerously and jaws opening in a loud hiss that had both boys' eyes widening in surprise.

"This only proves it." Harry and Tom instantly sprung to their feet at the sound of the voice, the latter's eyes narrowing into a steady glare as they focused on the owner. "You two really are freaks." Dennis spat in disgust, his hazel eyes glued to the huge form of the snake that had coiled itself protectively around the boys' ankles, gaze never wavering from it even as he moved forward.

"I told you they were up to something when I saw them coming here." Tom's narrowed gaze snapped to the second figure, noticing her for the first time. But of course, Amy Benson; the insufferable girl that always followed Dennis around like a little lost puppy. So his suspicions had been correct, they had indeed been followed.

He felt Harry tense next to him at the sight of Dennis' approaching form, Nagini must have felt it too for her body seemed to tense even more, dangerously low hisses coming out of her mouth and making the older boy halt in his steps.

"You aren't welcome here, Dennis." Tom spoke in a tone a low as Nagini's and just as dangerous, "So I suggest you take that annoying pup of a girl and get lost."

Dennis' eyes grew wide with disbelief for a brief moment, before they too narrowed to match Tom's. "How dare you threaten me, you little runt? How dare you even speak back to me?" he all but growled, his clenched fists shaking in rage at his sides. Tom quirked an eyebrow at that. The boy certainly had more temper issues than himself. And Dennis' next move only served to prove further his point.

He pulled out a knife.

Tom's initial reaction was to be shocked, but as he eyed the object better he couldn't suppress the bubble of laughter that rose from his throat. Harry's body next to him relaxed as well once he realized that they were in no immediate danger.

"And exactly what, pray tell, do you intend to do with that paper cutter?" Yes, he would recognize it anywhere. He had seen it numerous of times in Mrs. Cole's office. It was the knife she used to cut open the envelopes. Pretty sharp, but not even close to the damage a real knife could deal.

"Oh, I will show you exactly what I intend to do." Dennis said, voice venomously sweet and lips curling into a wicked grin. He stepped forward and before Tom could even blink, he had snatched Harry's arm, pulling his brother away from him. He did register Harry's panicked yell though, and then… chaos ensued.

Nagini was the first to react, her large body striking forward and coiling around Dennis' leg, making the boy cry out in surprise and stumble backwards but somehow still managing to stay upright.

Harry was now clutched firmly to his chest like some sort of human shield and the younger boy cried out, this time in pain, as his abdomen was nearly crushed by Dennis' iron like grip. Tom growled low in his throat, lunging forward at his brother's pained whimper. He had just taken hold of Harry's arm when his own arm was suddenly yanked backwards, forcing him to take a couple of steps back in surprise and letting go of his twin's arm in the process.

"No! What are you doing to him? Make that thing let Dennis go! Make it-" But Amy's rant was abruptly cut off the moment he turned to look at her, and from the way her eyes doubled in size when they connected with his, he knew all too well what had her cowering in fear. His eyes had turned blood-red.

"Let. Go. Of. Me." he hissed with all the venom a voice could possess. He vaguely heard his brother's sibilant hisses telling Nagini to stop, but that only served to fuel his anger. That pathetic girl was keeping him from getting to Harry.

Hot, boiling fury was slowly replacing all the blood in his veins, making him see only red for a while. The rage was welling up, growing by each second, and when it finally became too much for his body, it exploded. The girl couldn't even cry out as she was knocked backwards, landing in a heap on the ground with a loud 'thud', meters away from him.

He whirled around, free to return to Harry's side now that the annoyance was dealt with, only to have his insides freeze over.

Nagini had uncoiled herself from Dennis and was now instead curled on the ground, perfectly still and eyes glued to the two humans. _"He heard Harry ssspeak to me and then he moved hisss arm. I didn't realize what he had done until it wasss too late." _she hissed, but Tom was too far gone to hear her.

He refused to believe it.

Everything felt so cold now; the previous heat that had taken over his body had frozen. For a moment he wasn't sure his heart was still beating, his breathing had stopped after all, so why not his heart as well? It was a lie, another one of Dennis' cruel jokes.

Both boys fell to the ground, but Tom had eyes only for one. With a speed he didn't know he possessed, he shot forward, effectively catching the smaller form before it hit the harsh ground. While Dennis crawled as far away as possible, Harry didn't move in his arms.

"Harry?" He only vaguely felt Nagini slither up next to him, the sensation of her hard skin against him seeming so faraway. Strange, it was as if he was numb.

"Harry?" he asked again, this time more fiercely as he shook the boy. "Har-" his urgent call trailed off. His hand had come in contact with something liquid the moment he had shaken Harry. He brought his hand up and his gut gave a sicken lurch. His body was beginning to tremble but still he couldn't take his eyes off that crimson substance that covered his hand.

No matter how desperately he wanted to, he couldn't deny that metallic smell that only seemed to grow stronger.

"…T-Tom." His already wide eyes grew even further at the sight of his brother's brilliant eyes filled with unshed tears. "Don't cry, Tom" Cry? He? When had his own eyes started welling up with tears? Well, at least, that would explain the sudden blurriness.

"There's no one w-worthy enough of your tears." His body convulsed with silent sobs. His brother could be so dense sometimes. How could he even insinuate that he wasn't worthy to him?

"Hush, don't strain yourself." Harry's bluish lips twisted into a half smile, tears running down freely the moment he closed his eyes. And Tom couldn't help it. He shut his eyes as well, no longer able to stare at the broken form of his brother.

Fingers as cold as ice stroked his cheek ever so gently, in a way that a mother would probably use to console her child. But Tom wouldn't know. Harry had been the only family he had ever met, the only person he truly cared for besides himself. And he knew that Harry cared for him just as much. Perhaps they hadn't said it often, but their actions spoke better than words ever could.

And as he cupped the shaking hand with his own, uncaring for the way his cheek got smeared with blood, he could only drown into those green pools that even now stared with unwavering devotion back at him.

"Forgive m-me. I… didn't m-meant to l-leave you." He dragged Harry's hand away from his face, squeezing it against his chest instead. He could no longer tell which one of them was quivering and trembling more; himself or Harry.

"You foolish, idiotic boy. Blaming yourself for something that was never your fault." he wanted to say more, so much more, but his voice failed. Words were no longer capable to form from his mouth and for the first time, Tom felt frightened. Scared from the way his control seemed to be slipping right out of his grasp, just like Harry. Slipping away… far away from him.

Harry's ever sparkling, entrancing eyes, were starting to fade, that lovely emerald dulling into a faint shade of green, but not once they stopped glowing with affection. "I will a-always love you, T-Tommy. Never… n-never forget… that."

Tom's eyes widened with horror, moving from the now limp arm grasped tightly in his hand to the face of his brother, only to find his eyelids closed, chest completely still, unmoving. Nagini rubbed her head against his arm, offering her comfort even as she silently mourned for the child she had come to care as her own.

"_Nagini," _The female python looked up, gaze connecting with the tortured eyes of her remaining hatchling, _"why isss everything ssso cold?"_

She bowed her head, staring sorrowfully at the pale corpse of the younger boy. _"I fear it won't be warm for a while, sssnakeling. But it will passs… with time." _she said soothingly, her eyelids closing in resignation.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Her head snapped right back up at the sound of boy's voice, green eyes making up for all the venom her teeth did not possess in a single glare.

"Serves the little shit right for urging that monster on." Dennis spat, lips jerking into a satisfied smirk. It was soon wiped out of his face though, the moment those low chuckles reached his ears. Eyebrows furrowing, he glared at Tom, not understanding why the boy was so amused. Didn't he care that the other brat was dead?

Tom let out one last hollow chuckle. Too bad his head was bent down, because Dennis couldn't see the way his lips were pulled into one hell of an evil grin. "Then, you wouldn't mind if I returned the favour, would you?"

Dennis had no time to even register the meaning of those words. Next thing he knew, he found himself knocked against the nearest wall, lips parting into a silent gasp as the air was wiped out of his lungs from the force. But he didn't fall. Something was keeping him suspended in mid-air, the sharp stone surface digging painfully into his back and his throat squeezed from the grip of some unseen force.

Dennis struggled and kicked, trying in vain to free himself from the thing that was choking him, but how could he when he was unable to even see his attacker. Then he caught sight of Tom standing up and he shrieked.

Bright blood-red eyes were staring at him, filled with a wicked glee he had never seen before and that spoke of punishment and pain.

Tom laughed again, a high, empty laugh that resonated throughout the cave and sent chills down Dennis' spine. And he could only watch with dread and panic as that immensely huge snake slithered past Tom, its eyes holding the same kind of insanely glee. It didn't stop though. It moved and moved till it was only a few feet away from him. For a moment he froze, staring deep into the eyes of the snake as if in a gruesome trance. Then, the snake unhinged its jaw and he could only scream.

***)&*(**

Albus Dumbledore could only stare transfixed at the building before him, torn between repulsion and disbelief at the poor state it was in. Right above the gate, capital letters formed the word WOOL'S. He didn't dare believe that a magical child, or any child for that matter, could live in a place like this.

Huffing under his breath, the Transfiguration professor made his way in, ignoring the fact that the building was just as worse on the inside in favour of tracing the person he was looking for. The Matron appeared genuinely surprised when he requested a visit with the child, but he couldn't blame her. It was not often that an orphan got a visitor.

"I must warn you though," the woman began as they climbed up the staircase, "quite unusual this one is." Albus chuckled, having a feeling what this 'unusual' was. But then, the Mrs. Cole went on, "Especially since last year. Yes, Tom only worsened after that incident."

Now Albus actually paused. Incident? The Matron paused when she realized he was no longer following her. "Incident you say? I hope nothing disturbing happened?"

Mrs. Cole scowled. "Disturbing?" her tone had taken an upset edge, Albus noted. "Two children were sent to the hospital with grave injuries, while another was killed. If that is what you mean by disturbing, then yes."

"What happened? Pardon my imprudence, but I'm merely curious as to what led in this chain of events." The concerned tone with which he spoke those words was crystal clear. According to this woman, three children were traumatized forever, one of them actually dead. This was no normal occurrence. Something must have taken place.

"We take our children to the seashore once a year for a filed trip. Last year though, Tom, along with three other children went into a cave nearby. I don't know what happened in there, but none of these children were the same again." Albus frowned.

"You mentioned they were in need of hospitalization. Aren't you aware of the reason for that?" Mrs. Cole went distinctly red in the face, her facial features hardening at his implied insinuation. "Of course I'm aware! Don't you think I would be, seeing as they lived under my roof?"

He patiently waited for her to calm down, and when she finally did, he made a gentle motion with his hand, urging her to go on.

She huffed, probably still a tad upset, but she did continue, "The police claimed that they suffered from the attack of a snake, some type of boa constrictor judging by the broken ribs and bones the two children had sustained."

A boa constrictor? It was not unusual for these kind of snakes to lounge or nest near the water, but what chance did those children have to actually walk into one? "And the third child?" At this, the woman shrugged. "No one knows."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No one knows." she repeated, "The police thinks the child might have been disposed by the snake, serving as its next meal. They searched though, but no animal or human alike were found in the cave. What happened to him remains a mystery even to this day. The other two however…"

"Yes?" Albus probed, not wanting her to stop at this point. There was something suspicious about this story. A boa constrictor rarely fed off of humans, only when they were in dire need of food. And certainly, with such a convenient access to water, and therefore fish, this couldn't be the case. So, what happened?

"The children, one boy and a girl, were permanently damaged." Mrs. Cole continued, this time her voice a mere whisper, "Their physical injuries weren't the only ones they suffered from. They were mentally damaged as well and have not yet recovered. The doctors doubt they ever will."

Now Albus was starting to catch on, and he definitely didn't like the conclusion he was getting at.

But the Matron confirmed his suspicions with her next words, "Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson had never gotten along with Tom Riddle. He goes with them in a cave and the next thing we know, the children are hurt. Of course, there was no proof, but this isn't the first time strange things happen around Tom."

And now they were back to the subject of the 'unusual' again. Spurts of accidental magic were an often occurrence for Wizarding children since they had no control whatsoever over their powers. "Would you mind elaborating? I'm curious to hear the nature of those strange things."

The woman seemed to hesitate, a haunted look taking over her eyes as she glanced above her shoulder at the top of the stairs, seemingly afraid that someone would catch her discussing this subject. Now, this was interesting, mused Albus.

"As I told you, Tom has changed quite a bit ever since last year. He's become more violent I guess you could say." Seeing Albus' eyebrow rising up to meet his hairline, Mrs. Cole leaned closer, as if afraid to talk about it aloud, "The other day, a boy was taunting him, kept teasing him and all that. The next day, the boy's rabbit was hanging from the rafters."

Albus' eyes narrowed. Surely this was no reason to blame Tom. One of the other children could have seized that opportunity to make Tom seem guilty. Yes, Albus decided he had heard enough already and was about to request to be led to Tom's room, when his mind reared back. Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson, she had said.

"Forgive me, but I do believe that the third child's name must have slipped your mind." At this, Mrs. Cole blinked somewhat dazedly. He could swear her thoughtful expression was somewhat… off. "The name is of no importance. The child is gone."

It took Albus a moment to actually comprehend her words. The child was gone? That was her foolish excuse for not recalling the name of one of her own children?

Albus met her gaze dead on, causing her to grow still. Casting Legilimency on a Muggle was no hard feat at all, seeing as their minds were utterly unprotected. And that's precisely what he did. Past memories upon memories he went, only coming to a stop when he spotted the incident she had mentioned. What he found made him scowl. It seemed he had misjudged the Matron after all.

It wasn't like she didn't remember the child's name, but rather that she was unable to.

Besides the fact that the child was male and his involvement in the cave, the woman didn't possess any further information of the boy. This, added up with all the other occurrences she had mentioned, could only mean one thing.

Apparently, young Tom Riddle had some control over his magic after all.

Albus scowled. Memory Charms that had been cast successfully were quite hard to break, sometimes practically impossible. Even the specialized Healers at St. Mungo's were finding difficulties in that field. And _this_… was a particularly flawless job. He himself had mustered this Charm on his second year at Hogwarts. This child definitely had prospect. Minds like these were more than welcome at Hogwarts.

Once Mrs. Cole was brought back from the stupor that all victims of Legilimency seemed to enter, she asked her to escort him to Tom. Yes, the child looked promising indeed, but one question still remained unanswered.

'Why, Tom? What is it you wish to hide?'

**END OF CHAPTER ONE**

**Alright everyone! You know what to do if you liked the first chapter.**

**Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm really sorry for the terribly long wait everyone.**

**I've let lots of my stories hanging like that, but I do plan to make up for it!**

**Here's the next chapter!**

**CHAPTER TWO**

He was furious.

No… He was absolutely livid!

A couple of first and second year students jumped a good few feet up in the air the moment Tom stormed into the common room, dark aura rolling off him in suffocating waves that had even upper year classmen scurrying out of his way.

Three years after his arrival at Hogwarts, and they had already learnt not to bother him when he was having one of his moods.

But Tom couldn't care less about their pitiful existences right now. Making his way up to the dormitory, he blasted the door open with a long sweep of his wand, hearing the resulting creaking sound of the hinges and not finding it satisfying enough. So, he kicked the door shut, using all his might in that one violent push, making sure to lock it for a good measure and put up the strongest muffling spell he could muster.

Then, he proceeded to destroy every single piece of furniture in sight.

Feathers, ripped clothe, and splinters of wood were flying at every direction as he fired spell after spell. The velvety emerald curtains, victims of a direct Reducto, were laying torn on the dormitory floor.

A cry of pure frustration was ripped from his throat as he landed a kick to the closest trunk he could find.

"That old hag!" he shouted for the heavens to hear. "How dare she?!" The rhetorical inquiry was accompanied by a blasting hex towards the door that led to the joined bathroom.

He wanted to curse her until there was only her battered, beyond recognition corpse left. How dare she pull something like that on him?! And in front of his classmates as well?! In all honesty, he didn't give a damn about those lowlifes' opinion, but he had worked hard to earn the respect of those snobbish Slytherins.

He cursed her mentally for the millionth time in the past fifteen minutes for thinking about practicing the Patronus Charm this early on in term. He had nothing against the spell itself; after all it was the most effective way to repel Dementors. What had him absolutely pissed was her _brilliant _idea to practice first on a stupid Boggart!

A much too vivid image of a boy lying dead on the floor of Defense Against The Dark Arts classroom made him come to an abrupt halt, wand poised in mid-air.

"_What is **that**?"_

"_Dear Merlin! Is that a… corpse?"_

The yew wand slipped from his taut fingers as he clenched and unclenched his hands, sharp, elegant features morphing into something nasty when raw rage contorted his face.

"_You've got to be kidding!"_

"_Hold on! That thing looks like him!"_

He brought a hand up, pressing the back of his palm against his mouth at the sudden bile that rose to this throat.

"_Riddle's worst fear is his own death?"_

Another image flashed through his mind; pale features, brown hair…

Tom raced all the way to the bathroom, reaching the sink by the door just in time to empty his stomach of the breakfast he had had that morning.

…and the brightest pair of emerald eyes he had ever seen.

Arms propped up on either side to support himself on the sink, Tom continued retching even when he had emptied all contents, turning to dry heaving. He took a deep breath, switching on the faucet and letting the water wash away all evidence of his upset self.

Inhaling long and deep breaths through the nose, he cupped together his palms before splashing water onto his face, the image of his twin lying in a pool of his own blood flashing behind his closed eyelids.

He bent down, placing his entire head under the faucet and let the cold cascade of water cool his headache, willing the pictures and memories that rose to the surface to go away, to stop haunting him.

He stayed like that for a while longer, allowing the chill to sooth his temples. He turned off the water then, watching as tiny droplets fell from his wet bangs and landed on the white marble sink below, before slowly lifting his head. Bright crimson eyes stared back at him, not even near the luminous green orbs that were imprinted in his memory, so much like two gemstones.

He raised a hand, touching lightly with the pads of his fingers the reflection in the mirror, taking in the unique resemblance. Thanks to the similarities between him and the corpse, no one had thought to pay any closer attention to the dead boy's eyes. For if they had, they'd have realized the not too subtle difference between red and green. But Tom didn't complain. He didn't care in the slightest whether all those fools thought he was afraid of death. It was more than enough for him that they hadn't discovered his secret.

No one would ever know about Harry. He had taken measures for that long before he set foot at Hogwarts. Harry was only his. His baby brother, his twin, his secret! His alone!

He straightened his back, sparing one last glance at his reflection and left, making a bee line for his bed. He crouched down the moment he reached it, opening his trunk – the only one that was left in one piece – and pulling out a book from the far bottom.

_THE MANY WONDERS OF MAGIC _

The book that Professor Slughorn had lent him. Aware of his limited knowledge about everything magical due to his upraising, Slughorn had given him various books of similar topic. Though, he had developed a special liking to this particular one. Having read it as many times as he had, Tom opened the book on the very page he was looking for.

_Out of the many wonders numerous of witches and wizards have experienced in the hands of magic, unveiled remain the specifics that revolve around the existence after death. Of course, Ghosts have been sighted by almost all magical folk, as it is common for them to occupy the world from which they departed. Such an occurrence is a more common sight at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where quite a few Ghosts inhabit the ancient castle. An unfair death is said to be the reason for their prolonged stay in this realm. When a wiz is forced to depart without his or her consent, or suffers a much too horrific death, then they usually end up remaining in the realm of the living, doomed in an eternity of turmoil and great suffering as they can not find any peace. It is said that a Ghost's sole purpose is to bring forth their tormentor's ultimate hell, as payback for the horrors they suffered. _

_However, there are some uncanny cases where the victims choose deliberately to move on, willing to forgive their culprits for the evil deed that was done to them. Those few, worthy souls, are said to be rewarded for their purity of heart with a second chance. They are sent back, and be reborn as new beings, years after their death. _

Tom ran his fingers lightly over the text, eyes unseeing even when they were looking at the lines. Those with purity of the heart it said.

His eyes hardened, the crimson nearly turning black from the malice that was welling up inside him. Those worthless, Muggle scum had forcefully taken his brother from him, separated him from the one thing that prevented him from lashing out and destroying everything in his path. The first months were literal hell. Walking through the same halls, sleeping in the same room, watching the bed next to his. They would all remain empty, hollow like him.

He threw the book onto the mattress of his bed, his gaze unwavering while he swirled his wand above his head, wordlessly restoring the dormitory to its former state.

He had always thought that it was impossible, almost unnatural, for such a bright shade of green to exist, always thinking that the things they could do was the source for Harry's vivid eye color. But now, he knew that the reason behind Harry's radiance, resonated from his brother's very soul. And he hated them all the more for tainting that.

But no, he didn't withstand it all to falter now.

He'd make them all regret it. Those filthy Muggles, along with the incompetent wizards that couldn't care properly for their kin.

But not yet. Only when he'd have Harry by his side. Then, they'd deliver together their revenge. Together, they'd be invincible.

Luminous red eyes flickered around the room, equally tinted lips twitching ominously. _'Soon, little brother. No matter what it takes, I will find you.'_

***)&(***

He couldn't help the slight upturn of his lips, part of his glee slipping involuntary past his control at the look Slughorn was giving him. It was almost as if he was seeing him in a new light.

"Tom…" the Professor had to pause to clear his throat, a sound that had Tom's smile turn maniacal, "your curiosity… it's merely academic, isn't it?"

It was insane, really. Tom turned around slowly, gazing at the man evenly, his expression completely sober and devoid of emotions. "Of course, sir." He allowed the barest hint of a small smile to grace his features, one that could only be assumed as polite.

Slughorn exhaled audibly, heavily, his eyes dropping to half-mast in his relief and the smile that he sent Tom was too bright, too cheerful for Tom to let it slide.

"It will be our little secret."

The smile seemed to freeze suddenly on Slughorn's face, and Tom relished it when the man's eyes became guarded once again, suspicion entering his mind that perhaps there was something he was missing.

But his naivety was what made him so easy and enjoyable to manipulate.

Tom would always remain the perfect, model student in his eyes.

And as he gave a reassuring smile at his Professor, the older wizard shook his head momentarily before returning the gesture with no hesitation whatsoever, confirming the very fact that Tom had realized a long time ago.

Yes. In his dear Professor's eyes, Tom was capable of no evil.

Later that very same night, Tom stood in the empty Slytherin common room, arms poised against the black marble mantelpiece at either side of his head, and gaze trained to the dancing red and orange flames that performed solely for him.

Their brightness set his fiery crimson orbs alight, making them appear even more unnerving when he didn't blink.

"Horcruxes, eh?" he muttered to the hollow room, a dark, malicious smirk creeping slowly over his face, eyelids lowering half-way to obscure the unsettling orbs while a content humming like sound rumbled from deep within his throat.

"Harry," he purred, "It is done. So, you better not keep me waiting for long."

As if on cue, seemingly responding to his words, the flames cracked in the fireplace, swaying dangerously close as if swept by a nonexistent gush of wind, before regaining in strength again, more intense and blazing as they resumed their wild performance.

A high, cold laugh echoed in the common room, bouncing off the walls and increasing in volume, jerking the portraits out of their slumber with a start. Many were just about to open their mouth and scold whoever student was foolish enough to be awake at such an ungodly hour, when another laugh reverberated around the room, effectively halting whatever words would have tumbled out of their mouths. They all turned as one, eyes trained on the figure by the fireplace, before glancing away upon recognition, identical smirks coming onto the faces of the portraits' inhabitants, pitying whatever soul had warranted the malicious intent of Tom Riddle.

***)&(***

The cold, night air whipped past him mercilessly, his black robe billowing in great waves behind, making the sight even more eerie than it already was.

The little children that ran up and down the road, left and right, were wisely giving him a wide berth. A true shame, really. He would have liked to vent some of his ire. And he had lots of that welling up inside him.

If he was one of those that believed in some mighty entity, he would have concluded that God was surely mocking him.

But as it was, he already knew who to place the blame on.

The brat was the only one at fault here. For existing, for meeting the requirements of the child of the prophecy, but most of all, for being born on that cursed, damned day.

It could be no coincidence, that was for sure.

It was the very reason why Tom had chosen this specific child. Of course, the brat was a half-blood as well, and admittedly, it was the first thing that had captured his attention, the one similarity between them that had distinguished the Potter heir from the Longbottom.

But then he was made aware of the day James and Lily's son was born.

However, he had gone too far to take any chances. A squad of his most faithful Death Eaters had been dispatched with the single order to deal with the Longbottom child. They had been told to leave no one alive. But the Potter boy was his. The little half-blood. And so, both children that were born on July 31st would be eliminated.

It was ridiculous, really, how riled up he was with the Potter heir. He loathed that child for sharing so many likenesses with the only person that Tom had been pursuing for so many years. And now, here that brat was, to taunt him with his mere presence. A half-blood like his brother. Born on the very same day that his brother was ripped away from him.

His teeth gritted together without his consent. He was going to put an end to that little nuisance.

There were no wards placed around the house. Not for wizards, and not Muggle Repellent ones either. It was insulting to the point of disgust.

Those blood traitors thought that the Fidelius alone would be enough to shield them and had taken no further precaution measures. And to think that the Mudblood was supposed to be the smartest witch during her years at Hogwarts. And her husband was actually an Auror too. How the Potter name had fallen. Well, their blind trust in their friends was about to cost them dearly.

Tom's lips curled into a disdainful sneer as he watched the family. And those two called themselves responsible parents. They had gone into hiding and yet, here they were, fooling around in the living room and actually using their wands without the curtains drawn, where they were in plain sight.

How immensely stupid were they?

They brought this upon themselves, then. The events that were about to follow were solely their fault for not being cautious enough. Did that mean that they thought so little of him? The darkest wizard of all time? The Dark Lord more powerful even than the fearsome Grindelwald?

Fools, the whole lot of them.

He angled his head to the side, observing as the woman took the boy upstairs, presumably to put him to sleep. The notion brought a wicked smile on Tom's face. She shouldn't worry. He was going to put their precious, little prince into sleep soon enough, and it'd be for good.

Closing the distance between the garden and the main door of the house with quick strides, he made sure to use the loudest, blasting Curse in his knowledge. He listened with wry amusement the man shouting at his wife to hide the boy, letting her know of their guest. A dark chuckle left his lips. Yes, non subtle was definitely the most amusing method.

Having made quick work with the door, Tom made his way across the hallway, towards the living room where he knew Potter was waiting for him.

True to his musings, there the man was, standing between him and the stairway. Tom's gaze hardened at the realization that Potter was unarmed. Had he really forgotten his only weapon during the rush of telling his wife to hide?

Without turning his head, Tom glanced sideways in the direction of the living room, nearly cackling aloud at the sight of the wooden stick lying uselessly atop the coffee table. The black hood of his cloak had ensured that Potter was none the wiser in regards to his search, and so, with a non verbal Summoning Charm, the deep brown wand was securely in his grip.

Potter's eyes followed its movement, eyeing it helplessly where it was positioned between Tom's fingers, before gathering his wits about himself and straightening his posture.

This time, Tom didn't bother with suppressing a deranged cackle. The situation couldn't be more perfect or more hilarious, depending on one's view. To him, it was both. He already knew that the Mudblood didn't have her wand on her either. She hadn't bothered with bringing it along on her way to tuck in her son.

Still chuckling, Tom lifted one arm to bring down his hood, wanting the man to see just how mirthful he was finding this.

Potter visibly recoiled, and Tom's lips stretched into a wide smirk. "What's the matter, Auror Potter? Not brave enough to raise your wand against a seventeen year old?" He laughed when the man's eyes widened upon hearing his voice, a voice that had yet to reach the baritone of an adult. "No need to fret. You won't have to be faced with such a dilemma… simply because there's no wand for you to raise."

And to spite him, Tom twirled the man's wand in his fingers, having it swirl in a perfect circle right where Potter could see it.

"You're sick! This is the result for delving into the Forbidden Arts?!"

Tom hummed, not batting an eye at the weak attempt the man made of glaring at him. "Correction. This is the product of Immortality. And I find it highly useful in situations similar to our own."

Before Potter had the chance to question his words, Tom thrust his arm upwards, sending Potter's wand flying high towards the ceiling. Enraptured seemingly by the sight, Potter's gaze obediently trailed after it, neglecting that the main threat was on the ground.

Eyes flashing, Tom slashed diagonally through the air with his wand. Potter didn't have time to so much as open his mouth to yell before he was blasted backwards, the sheer power he was yielding strengthening a minor Curse so much, that Potter landed halfway up the stairway, the air leaving his lungs in one, long exhale.

Potter's wand was caught in midair on its way down, Tom's eyes not once straying from the prone figure on the stairs. Quietly, almost inaudibly, he sauntered up the stairway, pausing only once he was standing next to Potter. Coughing and with his breathing irregular, the man made to stand on shaky legs, only to be thrown to the ground again and immobilized by a single wave of that white stick.

Tom stared down at him, disgust clear and unmasked in his blood red orbs. "You underestimated the Dark Lord, Potter. That was your first and final mistake. And you shall pay it with your life… and your wife's life… and your son's."

Potter's body, seized up in the freezing spell, was unable to move a single muscle, and yet, his eyes were displaying the horror he was feeling with perfect clarity. Such a pitiful wizard.

"How weak…" Tom muttered, the corners of his lips twitching scornfully. He raised his arm slowly, taking his time to aim, and when he was certain that he had Potter's full attention, he pointed his wand at the man's chest. "…Farewell. _Avada Kedavra!_"

Bright green illuminated his eyes, the light of the Killing Curse for a moment reverting his eye color to its original one. Then, darkness took over once more, and Tom released the Full Body Bind curse with a single flick of his wrist, but still, James Potter remained just as petrified, never to move again.

The sight of those dull, lifeless hazel eyes flooded Tom's entire body with an indescribable feeling of euphoria. He breathed in slowly, savoring the moment and taking his sweet time to let it back out. Two more to go. Smirk nearly splitting his face, Tom whirled around on the spot, eyes set on the shut door at the end of the hallway, feet moving with a newfound vigor. Killing had always given him a special kind of thrill, but these particular three he was going to enjoy the most. They were going to be the most rewarding ones of the decade.

Feeling just a tad theatrical and a little bit cruel, he lifted his hand to the door, scraping his knuckles against the wooden surface. A dry, choked sob was his given answer, which only served to fuel his glee. Making quick word with unlocking the door, he made sure to open it as slow as possible, just for the drama of it. Torturing his prey had always been the best part.

Still cloaked in the darkness of the hallway, Tom pulled his hood over his head, abhorring the thought of prolonging this charade further.

"I must say I find myself rather disappointed." he said lightly, stepping into the illuminated nursery. "I expected much more from wizards of your caliber."

Lily Potter, with her hands gripping the wooden crib behind her, visibly sagged. Her red hair fell to frame her face in a ring of flames as her chin bent to rest atop her collar bone. The implications of her husband's demise behind that sentence hadn't been missed. Sure enough, when she found the courage to lift her head again, her green eyes had dulled considerably, the fire in them _almost_ extinguished. Apparently, she still had some fight left in her. Tom didn't worry though. He knew just the trick that would end her once and for all.

"Please…" the softly uttered word had Tom's smirk, the only thing visible from under the dark expanse of cloth, turning feral, and he moved closer yet to his cornered prey.

"Please," the witch repeated, louder this time, her arms spreading to block her remaining family from his view. "Don't hurt my baby. Do whatever you want with me, but don't harm Harry."

The mere mention of that name caught Tom unawares, freezing him in mid step. They had named their son Harry? Why hadn't this particular piece of information been reported back to him? How could it have been missed?! Lips parting into a snarl, Tom took a menacing step forward, bringing himself only a couple of feet away from the cowering woman.

"Step aside." His icy tone, authoritarian and absolute, made the witch plaster herself against the bars of the crib, her doe like eyes impossibly wide.

But despite the trembling of her body, she still managed to shake her head, scarlet strands flying in every direction. "Please, not Harry."

Tom's hellish red orbs grew for the barest of seconds before they narrowed down to mere slits, a feat that should have been humanly impossible. Hearing that name spill from her lips so carelessly, a name he had fought nail and tooth to keep hidden, away from all prying eyes and ears and strictly for his personal use only, had his blood boiling in his veins, scorching his insides with an all too consumable fury. His eyes flashed, wild, dangerous and merciless, and in a blur of movement, he had the tip of his skeletal white wand pressed against the hollow of her throat.

Her gaze flickered to it momentarily, pupils blown with fear, before she slowly dragged them upwards. She didn't swallow to get rid of the lump that had surely risen to her throat, he'd have felt it if she had. And she didn't move out of the way.

A Gryffindor through and through, Tom mused with disdain. "I loath repeating myself, woman. Stand aside now!"

She flinched at the cold demand, eyes shutting involuntary in defense. All too soon though, they snapped open again in clear defiance. "Take me. Not him." Her voice was resolute.

Tom took a moment to study the blatant display of bravery and idiocy combined together in one measly, little package. An admirable fool, but a fool none the less. It was pretty much obvious that her mind had been set, and no words were going to sway her decision.

"Have it your way, then." Sparks, enraged red, were emitted from his wand, burning her flesh as he applied more pressure, causing her to grimace in pain. "Have no worries, my dear. You shall be reunited with your beloved husband and son very soon."

The woman's eyes watered with ill suppressed tears, opening her mouth to scream her protest, but the bright green light that erupted from his wand froze her in place. Instantaneous as always, her eyes lost whatever little spark they had been left and her body, now a meek, void shell, slid to the ground where it remained.

Tom's eyes didn't trail her procession downwards, glued as they were to the small creature that had been revealed to him. Moving to stand above the crib, his enflamed gaze swept over the little one year old sleeping soundlessly. The child was lying on his side, one tiny fist pressed against his chest while the other was being sucked by red hued lips. A healthy flush adorned his cheeks, and black strands of hair formed a dark halo on the small pillow, contrasting perfectly with his otherwise pale complexion.

Doubtlessly, an adorable sight… if it had been anyone else but the Dark Lord.

As it was, Tom was only seeing a thorn that needed to be plucked out before it could prickle him.

Conjuring up the hatred the Killing Curse required from its caster took him les time than the previous two, feeling only raw loathing for the impostor that had been given the name of his most precious person. Raising his wand for the final and closing murder of the night, the unholy incantation was nearly finished when the baby stirred from its slumber.

The boy's eyes opened groggily slow, but the moment they did, luminous emerald assaulted all of Tom's senses, rendering him immobile. Habitual instinct had taken over though, and the Curse was uttered right before his burning hatred vanished into nothingness. Eyes widening drastically, Tom felt powerless for the second time in his life as he reached out in a desperate attempt to stop the green jet of light. Powerful as its reputation, the Killing Curse found its target before Tom's fingers could. The dread filled scream that was about to tear away his throat never echoed as, miraculously, the cursed light switched directions upon contact with the child, sprinting towards its new target.

The numbness that took over his body had absolutely nothing to do with the brightness that surrounded him. He didn't dare question the reason why the Curse had backfired, and he cared less of the fact that it did. He had made preparations for something like that a long time ago. He had never dreamt that a day would come when he would be glad for putting his Horcruxes to use.

But as he faded away, he felt more content than any man had the right to be while in the process of departing from the world of the living. Seventy long years he had been waiting, losing bits and bits of his sanity from the anticipation and disappointment, but it was finally here.

…His brother had come back to him.

**TBC**

**I apologize again for the long wait. I blame it on the huge writer's block.**

**But I'm no longer stuck, and I plan to update the rest of my HP stories soon.**

**Please, have a little more patience with me.**


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Silence stretched out, spreading throughout the large office and enveloping every single occupant in its folds. Even the boisterous portraits of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses had gone eerily silent in the face of the events that unfolded.

And Harry, exhausted as he was, couldn't help but feel grateful for the small reprieve he was granted.

A barrage of questions had been hauled upon him, seemingly endless in their quantity. His head was killing him, every single bone in his body was aching, and he couldn't so much as lift a single arm without the muscles protesting and cramping. But he had to endure it. He had to tell the Headmaster everything that took place down in the Chamber, to inform him of yet again another downfall of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

But never, not even during last year's unexpected meeting with the man, had Harry felt so utterly confused and lost.

There was just something about Voldemort's real form…something was definitely different about this time they met. And it was scaring Harry simply because he couldn't figure out why.

"But he had two wands, Sir." Harry said, repeating himself yet again, desperate to make Dumbledore see his point. "Two wands at his disposal, one of which is supposed to be brother wand to his own, according to Mr. Ollivander. And he is powerful, isn't he? Why then? Why didn't he use one of those wands to prevent me from destroying his diary?"

Dumbledore's kind blue eyes softened considerably. "The workings of Lord Voldemort's mind had never been predictable enough for me, my boy. It is regrettable, but I fear I can not give you the answer to that."

Harry was disappointed. That, and something akin to hyperventilation was beginning to gnaw at his core.

"_That senile old coot…" Riddle whispered, fingers reaching out to deftly stroke just beneath Harry's eye. "To think he'd have such an ace up his sleeve. I do believe he has just given me more reason to resent him."_

_Harry could only stare, shell shocked emerald eyes having grown drastically wide. An action that for some reason only served to appease the other despite him being on the verge of extinguishing._

"_As exquisite as I remember them." Riddle let out a breathy chuckle, but his face contorted into an agonized expression._

_His breathing was becoming louder, so erratic that it was all Harry could hear. The bright patches were spreading throughout his body, smoking like a piece of paper on fire. When Harry had stabbed that Basilisk fang in the pages of the diary, he hadn't been expecting something like this._

_Riddle gritted his teeth, and almost simultaneously, a soft whimper slipped past Harry's lips. He hadn't known it was going to be so painful. The other boy was burning from the inside out, literally. _

_Riddle's face that had been sporting such a cruel smile only minutes ago, now seemed to lit up by the warm, genuine smile that graced his features._

_Harry's breath hitched._

_How could someone appear so evil one moment and so kind the next?_

_The fingers retracted from his face, and Harry took an unconscious step forward before he regained his bearings and shook his head wildly, black strands falling over his eyes._

_This was Lord Voldemort, the man that had murdered his parents and tried to kill him as well. He didn't deserve Harry's sympathy._

_His chin was gripped gently, making him shut his eyes firmly just as his head was lifted up. It didn't matter that this was the third time he had killed another person, and __**this**__ person didn't deserve Harry's tears._

"_It's alright, little one. It's not your fault."_

_Harry sucked in a deep breath, and just like that, water trails stubbornly slipped past his pursed eyelids, heating up his cheeks on their way down._

"_Harry, look at me."_

_Perhaps it was the tone; so soft, almost pleading. Or perhaps it was because keeping his eyes shut was only intensifying the scorching sensation. Either way, Harry couldn't fail but obey._

_It was blurry at first, Riddle's pale face distorted before him, until he blinked once. More rivulets run down freely, making him realize that his vision had just been filled to the brim with tears. _

_Scarlet eyes, bright like they contained a fire of their own, connected with his, and Harry felt suffocated by their intensity._

"_It's not your fault, Harry." Riddle repeated. "This doesn't make you a murderer."_

_A strangled sob escaped his lips, the onslaught of tears now causing his sight to be constantly blurry. And as if a dam had been broken, Harry fell to his knees. He buried his face in his hands and just wept, sobs falling from his lips unbidden and rocking his entire frame._

_Why?_

_Why was it that only this evil wizard could see right through him? _

_Last year had been the same. No one had bothered to ask how he felt about killing someone, despite it being Voldemort. It was still murder. Not the Headmaster he admired and respected, not the friends he loved and treasured. _

_He was just twelve, for goodness' sake!_

_And he had committed his first murder on the tender age of one. He had sent Voldemort to oblivion without even realizing it at the time._

_He didn't know which was more pitiful; the fact that the person he had killed three times in total was openly forgiving him and trying to console him, or the fact that it was __**Voldemort**__ that bothered to lighten his burden._

_Fingers carded through his hair, offering their silent comfort. Harry sniffed, leaning into the soothing sensation and for a moment pretending it didn't matter from whom it was offered. _

"_My other self better hurries. You've suffered enough as it is."_

_Then, dust was raining down on Harry, bathing him in soot and just the barest traces of smoke. He was covered in the last remains of Voldemort, and instead of recoiling in disgust, Harry wrapped his arms around himself, desperately wanting to keep even a portion of that lingering comfort. _

"But what matters now is that Tom Riddle is gone, and Ginny Weasley safe and sound. You did well, my boy."

That was good, right? Dumbledore was even praising him.

Then why…

Delicate fingers clutched at the fabric of his Hogwarts robes, tightening and tightening to resemble the constriction that suddenly enveloped his throat.

…Why was it so painful?

"Tom is gone…" he repeated after the Headmaster, voice cracking.

Dumbledore's brows furrowed together, keen eyes observing warily, "Harry?"

"H-he's gone…Tom is gone." Each time it hurt more. Each time he said it, a part of himself seemed to scream, protesting against the mere notion of it. "Tom is gone…gone, gone, gone, gone!"

He could feel it; the previous hyperventilation was creeping up on him again, but stronger tenfold. He took huge gulps of air, frantic to provide his lungs with the oxygen supply they required. However, there didn't seem to be any oxygen left.

His hands gripped firmer, the robe nearly tearing from the pressure. But it was useless. He couldn't find an anchor.

"Tom-!"

He couldn't breathe right. The room was spinning around him, and he couldn't breathe. He was growing dizzy, and his chest felt like it could explode for some reason.

_**He couldn't breathe.**_

"_It's alright, little one. It's not your fault."_

He'd have screamed if he could.

"_It's not your fault."_

Of course it was his fault! It was only his fault that Tom was gone, and Tom wasn't supposed to be gone, because it hurt too much, and - and it was breaking him too much, and he couldn't…-!

"Harry? Harry!"

_**He couldn't breathe! He couldn-!**_

***)&(***

He didn't know how long he had been out cold, but the moment he opened his eyes in the Hospital Wing, the sky outside was pitch black. A few clouds were scattered here and there, but they kept shifting, caught up in a breeze that didn't reach Harry within the safety of the castle.

And he preferred it that way. The blankets that had been piled on top of him were so incredibly warm, lulling Harry right back into the world of unconsciousness.

He just felt so _tired_.

***)&(***

The next time that awareness began clawing at Harry's mind, the sky was considerably lighter. The blackness was gone, and a pale shade of pink was only starting to settle, preparing the world for the arrival of the sun.

He closed his eyes, reveling in the silence that remained within the castle for the time being, so much more soothing than the chaos that was always taking place amongst the Hogwarts halls.

The double doors of the Infirmary burst open, causing Harry's eyelids to shot upwards abruptly.

For a moment he just stared up at the white ceiling, rueful at how little his moment of piece had lasted.

"Harry? Oh, Harry, thank goodness! Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let us visit you any sooner. Well, you did need to replenish your energy and rest up your body, but that was downright cruel of her!"

His ire seemed to evaporate into thin air. Glassy emeralds slid to the side, a small smile forming on his face at the two, blurry figures that were making their way over.

"Hey," he croaked, and a coughing fit wracked his whole body, jostling him where he was laying.

A glass was suddenly pressed against his lips, and Harry opened his mouth wide enough to gulp down a few sips of water. He pursed his lips when he was finished, head slightly turning to the side, and the glass was removed.

"Thanks." he said, his voice functioning properly this time, and offered up a grateful smile to Hermione, which the girl accepted with a smile of her own as she set the glass back on the tabletop next to Harry's bed.

"How you feeling, mate?" Ron pulled up a chair to sit on, Hermione following his example.

Harry tried to sit up as well, but the moment his muscles screamed in rage at the idea, he thought it wise to just resign to his fate. "I've been better, that's for sure." He blinked, suddenly remembering a crucial detail. "And Ginny? How is she?"

He released a breath when Ron flashed him with one of his trademark grins. "Good! Dumbledore said that she had come pretty close to -…yeah…but she's fine now! Mum took her home to rest. Oh, and she said she'll be visiting you as soon as Ginny's better!"

He laughed lightly, already picturing the fuss Mrs. Weasley was going to make. She'd probably try to use this as a chance to fatten him up somewhat.

"Harry," Ron's tone was quick to sober him up, blinking at the fidgeting boy.

"Ron?" One black eyebrow went up in amusement, finding weird this so out of character behavior.

His friend finally made eye contact then, and Harry was genuinely taken aback by the fierce resolve shimmering in those blue eyes. The times he had seen Ron look so serious could be counted on one hand.

"Ginny wouldn't have made it outta that place if you hadn't…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "I guess what I'm trying to say is…thanks." A grin spread out across his face, lighting up his entire features. "You really are the best!"

Heat pooled abruptly at the base of Harry's neck, his eyes growing in size.

Ron laughed loud and clear at his flustered expression, Hermione's own chuckles soon developing into right out laughter which she tried to conceal behind her hand with little success.

"Oh, shut it." Harry grumbled, pulling the covers all the way up to his head to hide his burning cheeks from view. But once within his haven, he allowed a grin to manifest, unable to keep it down any longer.

And any lingering memories concerning Tom Marvolo Riddle were swept away.

Unbeknownst to Harry, barely a few hours after he had slipped back into unconsciousness, his mind had worked silently. Any thoughts about Tom Riddle's newest death stirred too much confusion and pain, too much _emotion_, that Harry's psyche wouldn't be able to deal with it. He'd be swallowed right up.

So, it was banished away, stored in the far back of Harry's mind where it wouldn't be allowed to wreak any turmoil, and it'd be kept there until the boy had reached the mental maturity it required in order to properly delve into it and everything that it entailed.

For the time being, however, it was viewed as a threat. Harry's break down had triggered the unwitting action of burying it deep within his subconscious, for his own safety.

And for the next year, any thoughts of Voldemort were the least concern of Harry's.

With the appearance of all three of his father's best friends, the gruesome Dementors that had developed an unhealthy obsession with his soul, and the new facts that came to light, Harry was justifiably busy.

But it was with the arrival of Alastor Moody at Hogwarts, and the Triwizard Tournament, that Harry would be forced to face everything he had been avoiding up until that moment.

Because it was at his forth year, that Tom Riddle would return to claim what had been ripped from him all those years ago.

***)&(***

Harry could only stare, stare and pant harshly, as the large cauldron melted away, dark grey liquid spilling over the wilted grass and turning it black.

He tried to regain his breathing, and swallowed painfully to soothe the burning throbs that his throat was suffering from all the screaming he had done in the past minutes. He stared almost obsessively at the thick fluids that had been residing inside the cauldron and were now joining it on the ground, making the grass even blacker and sticky.

He stared at the sickening substance that was formed, so that he wouldn't have to look at his resurrected enemy.

His clumsily cut wrist was throbbing worse than his throat, and the waves of dizziness that were assaulting him mercilessly made him wonder if Wormtail – in his haste to complete the ritual, or simply because he didn't care – had dug the dagger deeper than necessary into his vein.

Now he realized that the statue of the Grim Reaper behind him had more uses than simply keeping him captive.

"My wand," a silky smooth voice spoke, and Harry flinched, certain that if he were to lift his gaze he'd be met with the same boy from two years ago. And that was something he really didn't want. That night in the Chamber had left him with more scars than he dared count, and he didn't mean the physical, tiny one on his left arm that had been at the time a gaping, little hole once the Basilisk fang was removed.

Apparently, he thought with a glance at his steadily bleeding wrist, it was never too late to undo Fawkes' work from back then.

Bare feet, slightly veiled by black robes, were suddenly obscuring the only clean patch of grass that his vision had been filled with and were covering the distance between themselves and the statue he was held against in sure strides.

Harry refused to show how tense it made him.

The Reaper's scythe that had been pressed against his neck was no longer supporting him up, and Harry's lips parted to form yet another shout as he used his injured hand to brace his fall.

He fell back on his hunches, bringing his now profusely bleeding wrist close to his chest and carefully cradling it with his good hand.

The intensity of the pain was beginning to make him consider the possibility of Wormtail accidentally severing a tendon.

A black form crouched in front of him, causing Harry's entire frame to grow rigid.

"Show me." Despite the tenor like quality, the authority in that voice couldn't be mistaken.

And as Harry defied it, he didn't know if it was bravery that urged him, or mere foolishness. "Why? It makes your job all the more easier."

"Show me your hand, Harry."

The _**now **_didn't need to be spoken.

Harry bristled at the careless use of his first name, burning green lifting to glare at equally enflamed red. "Don't you dare say my name like we're old buddies!"

The next thing he knew, his hand was snatched away at particularly the same time that the right corner of his forehead, right where his scar was located, exploded in pain. Alarmed, Harry tried to take his hand back, but Voldemort's grip wouldn't let him.

"There isn't a single person that has any right to that name more than me!" The older wizard hissed lowly, but Harry was more concerned about that skeletal wand suddenly hovering over his injury. Convinced that Voldemort was going to cut his hand off completely, Harry brought up his other arm in an attempt to push the man away, only to instantly withdraw it the moment his scar seared again.

His captured wrist was released then, and Harry wasted no time to inspect it, eyebrows furrowing at the white scar that now remained in the place of the open wound.

He looked up again, only to have his glasses taken off.

"What-?" Hands grasped his face, forcing him to cut off his sentence in order to hiss at the peak in his scar.

"And it is about time you remembered why," Voldemort's face was suddenly close, too close, to the point that Harry could count those black eyelashes without squinting. Then, a cool forehead touched his, and Harry let out a cry. He thrashed about, pushing at Voldemort's clothed chest with all the strength he could muster.

His vein might have been healed, but it didn't bring back all the blood he had lost, and it showed in the way his arms shook.

A growl, threatening and irked, passed through Voldemort's lips and Harry was pushed backwards. His arms were pressed firmly to his sides and were held there by the man's legs, while his face was gripped but with more force this time, and Voldemort's forehead met his once again.

"Don't fight it, Harry." Hot breath fanned over his lips, and Harry was about to scream again from the excruciating assault behind his scar, when his eyes connected with those dark red pools an inch or so away.

A connection – Harry didn't know what else to call it – seemed to open up, and his senses were abruptly overloaded with tons of colors, various emotions flooding him at the same speed that thousands of images flashed inside his head, fading away only to instantly be replaced by another, and another, and another.

His arms ceased their struggle and fell limp on the ground.

"_Tommy!" _

_At the screech, a four year old, dark-haired child turned around, green eyes growing large when someone slammed right into him, sending them both sprawling on the ground._

_Tom 'oofed', blinking to see a mirror version of himself staring down at him sheepishly, and effectively making him scowl._

_A huge grin spread over the other child's face, lighting up his impossibly green doe-like eyes._

_Grunting, his arms lifted to wrap around the boy, causing the other to giggle and bury his head in Tom's clothed chest. _

_Tom rolled his eyes, a smile gracing his features. _

The scenery shifted as quickly as it had come.

"_Tommy! Look, look!"_

_A six year old Tom lowered the book he had been reading, raising an expectant eyebrow at the boy sitting on the opposite bed._

_The dark haired child bounced on the mattress excitedly once before turning his gaze towards the small table below the window of their room. Tom did the same, eyes coming to rest on the single other book that resided atop of it._

"_Yes, and?"_

_His doppelganger made a shushing motion with his hand, and Tom went back to staring at the object with a huff._

_A few minutes or so went by, and Tom had started drumming his fingers on the illustrated cover of his reading material. He was ready to grab his book and return to reading, when the object of his sole attention for the past several minutes suddenly shot off the table, floating and swaying a couple of inches above the surface. _

_Seconds later, however, the book fell back down as if exhausted and didn't stir again._

"_Did you see that? I finally did it!" The boy bounced on the bed again, bright emerald eyes dancing with mirth._

"_Indeed, little brother." Tom drawled, picking up his own book again. "You managed this, what, a week after I showed you how?"_

"_Tom!" The other shouted, hurt and indignant, taking a hold of his pillow and hurtling it at his brother._

_Tom looked up, and just before it reached him, the pillow remained suspended in midair for a couple of seconds before it fell to the floor between their beds, and causing the one that had thrown it to cross his arms with a huff. _

_Shaking his head, Tom turned a page._

_Silence stretched out between the two children, before it was finally broken. "Harry," Tom called out without looking away from the text._

_The younger boy glared at him from the corner of his eyes. "What?" _

"_Well done."_

_Harry froze, eyes growing in surprise. Cheeks flushing, his arms unfolded and he beamed._

_Tom responded with a small smile of his own, before gesturing towards the table with his head._

"_Again. This time try to make it respond to you quicker."_

_With a cheerful nod, Harry went to do just that._

"No!" he shouted, head turning away from the searing gaze but Voldemort followed him suit. "Stop it!"

"You need to watch."

Harry shut his eyes tightly, but that didn't stop the images.

"_Does it hurt still?" Tom patted the bleeding area just above his brother's brow gently, carefully wiping the cut clean with a wet cloth._

_An eight year old Harry shook his head, mindful not to disturb his twin's ministrations. He frowned without thinking and immediately hissed as the still tender wound was stretched._

_Tom poked him on the forehead with his fingers. "Idiot. Don't do that."_

_Harry looked at his brother, bringing a hand up to gently brush one of Tom's eyelids. "They haven't gone back yet." he informed him softly. _

_Tom swatted his hand away so that he could go back to cleaning his wound. "You know they won't go back for a while."_

_Harry sighed, peeking at his brother's crimson eyes from behind dark lashes. "Are you mad at me?" he asked hesitantly, teeth gnawing on his lower lip._

"_You were making the bud bloom in your palm, Harry. Yes, I'm vexed with you for doing something so careless right out in the open, but I'm mad at __**them**__ for throwing a blasted rock at you!"_

"_Language," Harry admonished softly, without feeling._

_Tom glared down at the boy for having his own scolding statement thrown back at him._

"_I swear I'll be more careful next time." _

"_Excuse me?" Tom's red eyes narrowed dangerously. "There isn't going to be any next time, simply because you won't be doing it again." He took Harry's chin between his fingers, forcing his brother to look at him. "If you want to practice our stuff, then you'll only do so in the room, and nowhere else. Understood?"_

_Harry nodded, his eyes downcast._

"_Good." Tom said, satisfied, and picked up the cloth again. "Who was that hit you with the rock?"_

_Harry blinked confusedly up at him. "Billy."_

"_Wasn't he whining about wanting a rabbit for his birthday until Mrs. Cole finally got one for him?" _

_Harry nodded, unsure where his brother was getting at._

_Tom's lips pulled sideways, red eyes darkening cruelly. "Perfect."_

_Harry shivered at the near purr, uncaring for whatever fate awaited Billy Stubbs' rabbit but still pitying the poor thing for having to pay for its owner's stupid actions._

_The image changed to show the boys sitting in the back yard of the orphanage, both of them now at the age of nine._

"_Tom?" Harry asked, knees pulled up against his chest. "You really don't think we're monsters, right?"_

_Tom cast his brother a bored look. "If this is about what that new kid said, you should know by now not to pay any of them any attention. Dennis Bishop is just like the rest of those idiots. He doesn't know a thing, not about us and not about the things we can do."_

_Harry laid his cheek on top of his knees, looking at the other boy. "But the things we do aren't normal, are they?"_

"_Of course not." Tom said, staring at him funnily. "We are special, Harry. Normal doesn't abide to us."_

_When Harry didn't reply, Tom scowled, turning his attention to the empty playground and watching the swings drifting back and forth in the breeze. "It's not like you to doubt yourself."_

"_I don't!" Harry's head jerked up. "I love our abilities, you know that!" He sounded offended, and Tom's lips couldn't fail but twitch at this._

"_It's just that…" Harry trailed off, green eyes rising to the dark, cloudy sky above. "Sometimes I wonder what mum would think about us."_

_Tom's own green eyes gazed upwards as well. "Why would you think that?"_

"_What do you mean why?" Harry asked, but didn't tear his stare away. "Because she's our mum. It's natural, right? Don't you think like that as well?"_

"_No." Was the simple response, causing Harry's eyes to snap downwards in surprise._

"_I don't think like that because I don't consider her family, and therefore, I don't particularly care whether she's proud or disappointed." A drizzle had started, but Tom still didn't look away from the sky, uncaring of the way the raindrops landed on his face._

"_The only person's opinion that I value is you, and it'll always be you."_

_The drizzle was gradually getting stronger, fat drops now falling on Harry's face and sliding downwards, but some of them were hot for some reason, so much like…_

_It wasn't often they expressed such sentiments. They already knew that they loved each other deeply, thus, saying it was pretty needless. But on the rare occasions that Tom took the initiative, Harry would always find himself speechless, aware that his brother didn't care much for sweet words the way he himself did. _

_Smiling softly, he reached out, intertwining their fingers together._

_Tom's fingers closed firmly, safely, around his own. "Should we go inside?"_

_Harry shook his head, brown hair nearly black from the rain. "Let's stay a little longer." he said, tightening his grip, and Tom nodded mutely. _

"_Besides," he added as an afterthought, "It's not like we'll be missed."_

_They looked at one another, breaking out laughing and snuggling closer to ward off the cold breeze. _

Voldemort's heat withdrew at last, but Harry didn't move. His limbs were freed from their confinement, and still he couldn't find it within himself to move a muscle.

One last memory surfaced to the forefront of his mind, the shortest and bitterest of them all.

"_I will a-always love you, T-Tommy. Never…n-never forget…that."_

Tears spilled over his eyes, running down and to the side, landing on the grass below him. His bad eyesight, combined with the overflow of tears, was making it impossible for him to see beyond his nose, only distinguishing the blackness of the sky up ahead.

"Harry?" Vold – Tom asked from somewhere to the side, and the teen finally willed his arms to move, bringing his hands up to cover his face and his shame.

Choked sobs spilled from his lips, muffled by his hands, and he pressed firmer in the hopes of stifling them completely. Really, he was such a terrible and cruel person.

His hands were pried away suddenly, and as he was seized by the forearms and hoisted into a sitting position, Harry only vaguely registered that it longer hurt when the other touched him. A thumb passed over his cheeks, wiping away the tears there before brushing his eyelashes gently and removing any remaining wetness.

The action nearly made him sob again.

"Talk to me, little brother."

His eyes snapped open, finally taking his first good look at Tom after all this time. Sharp, elegant features set on a perfectly sculpted face. Piercing crimson eyes that contrasted so intensely with the pallor of his skin. With the exception of his hair which was now entirely black rather than dark brown, Tom looked exactly the same as his diary self, if not perhaps a year older.

The last time he had seen his brother, he was a ten year old child.

"Tom," he whispered, marveling at how good it felt to speak that name. He repeated it again, simply because he couldn't believe his older brother was standing right there before him.

And Tom, his smart, brilliant Tom, seemed to understand because strong arms enveloped him in their fierce hold, bringing him closer.

Harry did the same, clinging on him tightly; as if afraid he'd vanish into thin air.

"I'm sorry," he breathed into a robed shoulder, feeling tremors developing all over his body. "I'm so sorry for forgetting my promise. I didn't mean to, I swear! I was the one that told you to never forget, but in the end I…!"

Soothing circles were rubbed on his back, while long fingers stroked the back of his head.

"A reincarnated soul never maintains memories of a previous life. It wasn't your fault, Harry. I could never accuse you of something like that."

The teen drew back, breaking the embrace in order to look into the other's eyes, feeling a pang of guilt at the knowledge that their lovely green color was gone and it was partially his fault.

"Oh, gosh, I killed you. I killed my own brother more than once! As if the turmoil I put you through for all these years hadn't been enough!"

Tom cupped his cheek, linking their foreheads in a way that was so different from before. Harry breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with Tom's unique scent and trying to stifle the anxiety that was slowly and steadily welling up.

"It is of no importance now. I am here, and so are you." Red eyes gazed deeply at him, roaming all over his face. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited to have you back in my arms? Eighty four years, Harry. My Harry, my precious little one."

The teen choked out a laugh, neck burning up at the affectionate words he had gone so long without, at the person he had gone so long without.

Tom smiled slightly, having missed the sound of that ringing laughter.

"Everything is going to be alright now. _We _are going to be alright." Tom said, and the teen nodded, desperately wanting and needing to believe it.

But he had a feeling that his brother's eyes wouldn't just take a while to revert to normal, like their days at WOOL'S. After all, they had remained like this for eighty whole years now. He wouldn't kid himself. Tom had always taken revenge for everything the other children did to them, and he wasn't going to change his ways now. Not after having to suffer eighty years of solitude and despair.

Oh, yes. His brother's eyes were going to take quite some time to turn back. He just didn't know whether the world would still be standing by that time. 

**THE END **

**Yes, it's finally done!**

**What did you think of Ripped Apart?**

**If you want a sequel, then just say****so in your review or a pm, because I already have something in mind. **** ;)**


End file.
